Sigh No More
by Demi-goddess
Summary: Inspired and based upon Mumford and Sons' album, 'Sigh No More'. Drabbles. FedVie mainly, but features others in a few. Fueled by illness, drugs and very good music.
1. Chapter 1

Demi: I've been quite ill recently, and yet, I've not managed to write a single damn thing. So I've been forcing myself to do prompted stuff - shuffling my beloved iPhone and plotting stories through the music. Music is what keeps me going when I'm bedbound, which is what has occurred a lot recently. I've always been a huge Mumford and Sons' fan, ever since i saw them at a small venue gig, before they hit the mainstream. For those not familiar with their music, i urge you to go listen to them. Their lyrics are so deep and meaningful, but their melodies are just as worth it. Mumford have calmed me when I've had a particularly shit day and will continue to do so. But, listening to their album, I found so many connections to AssCreed, namely FedVie that i just had to write to the album haha

I attempted to do this as a "write until the song ends" ditty, but on some songs, I've repeated the song, because i've really been inspired, so some are longer than others. And they won't all be FedVie - one of these is an Ezio-centric, so... yeah.

I aim to do the entire album of "Sigh No More", but here's the lot that i've done so far, and tell me what you think =]

* * *

SIGH NO MORE

"_Oh man is a giddy thing..."_

It took him a long time to get Vieri to understand something about love.

It could not be controlled like womenfolk, it could not be bought or sold like land, and it could not be set out like a contract. Love just happened. It happened between two people, sometimes quickly and unexpectedly, and other times slowly and gradually. And whilst it could not be controlled, it could not control you—ultimately, some decisions are made with your mind befuddled with amorous feelings, but if the love is true then it cannot hurt you. When it does, it is not love—it is, instead, something mankind has created to lie alongside love. People fall in lust and call it 'love', and then forsake love itself when they are burned; the failure of man.

* * *

WINTER WINDS

"_As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts  
Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms  
Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night?  
For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt..._

_And my head told my heart, 'Let love grow!'_

_But my heart told my head, 'This time no, this time no...'"_

Sometimes, Vieri truly wondered why he was with Federico.

The bastard annoyed him to no end, constantly teasing and riling the Pazzi male for his own amusement. He constantly flirted with what seemed like every breathing person within shouting distance, especially with the women folk and whores. He showed up at the most goddamn awful times—his favourite was in the very early hours of the morning when Vieri was groggy and defenceless—and did everything Vieri didn't want him to do.

He was attractive, yes. His physique was that of the fabled Greek gods, muscles tight with power, and skin a glowing brown. His nose, granted, was not his most redeeming of features, but Vieri only had himself to blame for the slight crookedness; too many punches to the face. But his eyes always glittered with so many emotions, brown flecked with...was it hazel? Sometimes Vieri liked to think it was gold—Federico was strange enough to have gold eyes. But then the elder male realised it was not Federico's handsomeness that kept him from running his sword through his gut (and that was not a euphemism).

Vieri could probably have his pick of Florence, due to his family's status and wealth, but those people would not hold him in a warm embrace during the night and wouldn't tolerate his mood swings, nor his scathing remarks. And that's when Vieri realises, with icy dread, that he only stays with Federico because he's scared of the cold.

He's scared of being alone.

He had sought comfort and love from his father, but it was, as they say, like trying to draw blood from a stone; ironically, the metaphor fitted his father perfectly, the heartless bastard he was. And then Federico came along and...

All those hugs and kisses and affection – he only accepted them to feel wanted, to feel loved. He was not deluding himself into this. He knew it for definite. And maybe Federico knew it too.

Maybe they were both afraid of the winter winds.

* * *

ROLL AWAY YOUR STONE

"_But you... you've gone too far this time  
You have neither reason nor rhyme  
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine"_

He had meddled for the last time.

Vieri did not need Federico. No, he did not. The bastard Assassin had come along and tried to make his life _better_. What was 'better', though? Who had a better life, or the best life? Vieri was not a philosophical person—he left that to Viola—but even he, in this period of quiet, found himself pondering such...such _whimsical_ thoughts of life. What made a life better?

According to Federico, it was love. It was affection, it was hugs, it was kisses, it was laughter. To have a good life meant that you could run through the fields of _Toscana_, smiling with the wind even as rain soaked you cold to the bone; it meant you could wake up with a smile on your lips and a tune in your head without meaning. A good life was the sensual enjoyment of the physical, the pleasure of discovering and the contentment in the unknown.

But that still didn't explain how that made Vieri's life better. He had money, he had the pick of many beautiful and powerful women in Florence and beyond, he had allies, he had a large house—he had _many_ large houses—in fact, he had everything he could want and need. And Federico and his _notions_ were not needed.

His meddling—his attempts at making his life _better_—had left him with nothing; stripped of dignity in the Pazzi ranks, in the Templar order even, when his trysts with Federico had been uncovered, he found himself in the very pits of lowliness and by God above, if there was one, he was not staying there. He would once again stand proud and it would be without Federico.

* * *

WHITE BLANK PAGE

"_You desired my attention but denied my affections, my affections...  
__But tell me now, where was my fault  
In loving you with all my heart"_

With the sheets crisp and cool beneath his outstretched fingers, Federico stared at the long, broad frame of Vieri's back. The fibres of his very being urged him to continue further, and brush skin against skin, but he resolved not to. His heart skipped a beat or two upon remembering the night passed, when Vieri refused him, when he snapped, when he took what he felt was his; or gave, rather. Vieri never accepted feelings of an emotional nature, always the physical, and so Federico showed him how he felt through their bodies; their movements had been filled with hurt, fuelled by hate and love alike—there was nothing pure about it.

Federico loved Vieri like no other, but hated him for not loving him back in the same way.

Vieri loved how Federico adored him physically, but hated him for adoring his soul.

* * *

TIMSHEL

"_And I will tell the night  
Whisper, 'Lose your sight'  
But I can't move the mountains for you"_

Federico knew his boundaries with Vieri; he knew where and when the lines were drawn, lines which he would never cross.

When seeking Vieri out, he would judge the situation like any of his Assassin missions. Sometimes Vieri was too caustic to approach, even for Federico, and so the Pazzi male was left alone. He would go to Vieri, however, when his instinct—an almost primal feeling—told him that his lover, his _mate_, was in true need. He would hold Vieri tightly, ignoring any scratches and bruises he developed in the process.

Times had recently been rough on Vieri, and Federico would often return home battered and bruised. He never questioned why; in fact they didn't speak during these times. Eventually Vieri would tire himself out and stand limply in the younger man's embrace, unconsciously savouring a warmth he knew would soon be extinguished. When lying in his bed, with Federico snug against his back, he'd wish he could convince the night to continue on and bid the sun forget to rise. He would untangle himself from the hold and move to the edge of the cold bed, pillow gripped tight in his fingers.

And in the morning, he would wake with his hand clenched tightly in Federico's, heartbeat fresh in his ears. He would realise, for what felt like the millionth time that even if Federico left him in the physical sense—willingly or otherwise—the bastard would never truly leave him.

* * *

DUST BOWL DANCE

"_There will come a time I will look in your eye  
You will pray to the God that you always denied  
Then I'll go out back and I'll get my gun  
I'll say, 'You haven't met me, I am the only son'"_

He crouched on the sharp slope of the roof, eyes glinting beneath the shadow of his hood as his gaze followed two beings walk past his sentry point and onwards, oblivious to his presence.

One was Uberto Alberti. He was lower than scum in Ezio's mind. He was a betrayer, a user, a criminal of all seven sins. That man had taken everything from him—his family, his wealth, his title, his existence. Because of that man's actions, Ezio Auditore had died along with his brothers and fathers; he was the Assassin now.

The other man was Lorenzo de'Medici; he was not his target. Far from it, Lorenzo was his father's best friend, at least according to Paola. She was the one who had helped him to this stage, not only building his skills, but honing his mind and courage to seek revenge. He would do this, for both his family and for himself—for Ezio, the young man wiped from existence by the ruthlessness of the Assassin, the first victim.

Alberti would be the second.

Then in a flurry of movement, the deed was done. Blood stained his robes—his father's robes—and dripped a lake from his blade. Alberti died praying to a God he didn't believe in, he died a liar, panting for breath he did not deserve, grasping for life he should not have. And now, as every person in the courtyard turned with horror at the sight, he admitted it all. Of course, he could not hide, not now. He claimed the kill in the name of honour, in the name of justice, in the name of the Auditore, in _his_ name.

* * *

Demi: As I said, these were written to get my groove back, so they are choppy and shit and blergh and probably don't make sense. I really don't like "White Blank Page", but then again, it's not my favourite song, although i do like it (if that makes sense)...

Ahh too many drugs. Brain addled. Tell me what you think, though =]


	2. Chapter 2 With Author's Note

Demi: I got a request from Raine and one other who wanted the second bit of this story to be posted here, as they could not access Tumblr for whatever reason, so here it is. But the majority of drabble stuff will be posted over on my blog :)

* * *

THE CAVE

"_But I will hold on hope  
And I won't let you choke  
On the noose around your neck."_

He used to wonder, often, why the hell that intrusive bastard carried on interfering in his life. The damn _stronzo_ just would not give up; it was like he was determined to change his mind on every single matter of his life, as if his own life depended on Vieri's.

Vieri soon realised that Federico was, in vain, attempting to find the key to his gilded cage; the younger male was trying to set him free, to give him the confidence to step out independently, to be his own person, not another Pazzi. He was trying to get Vieri to abandon his restraints, find strength in his faults and shortcomings, and ultimately doing what was best for himself.

Quickly, he thought of the truth. He realised why Federico interfered and stuck his damn crooked nose into his business. It was plain as day. Why else would he waste so much time, so much effort, so many smiles and so many kisses on him if he didn't?

He guessed that Federico loved him. And he guessed that, maybe, he loved him too.

* * *

(Unfortunately, I had to leave out "I Gave You All", as the song holds a lot of meaning to me, and I can't listen to it anymore due to past experiences.)

* * *

LITTLE LION MAN

"_But it was not your fault but mine  
And it was your heart on the line  
I really fucked it up this time  
Didn't I, my dear?"_

He had been a fool. Such a damn fool.

Numbly, he realised that the saying, 'You never know what you have until it's gone' was goddamn painfully true. He had taken Federico for granted, just like everything else in his life. And now he had left and Vieri had no one. He had broken the only heart that had cared to love him, and now his own lay shattered, unable to clot and mend.

All those rebuttals, all those refusals, those insults and threats had added up to nothingness—Federico was gone, vanished, nowhere to be seen. Not a single warning, not a not, not a goodbye.

But he deserved it. He was a fool. Such a lonely, stupid fool.

* * *

THISTLE AND WEEDS

"_But plant your hope with good seeds  
Don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds  
Rain down, rain down on me..."_

Vieri was greedy—there was no hiding that fact.

In a way, it wasn't his fault. It was in his blood, in his very soul to be gluttonous; he was raised by a man who, had he been told his heart was made of diamonds, would not hesitate to rip it from his chest. Vieri grew up in an environment of selfish gain and, therefore, felt he had to have the best, had to _be_ the best.

Federico, on the other hand—whilst coming from a very well-off family, a family that rivalled the Pazzi strength on strength—seemed to be the opposite. He didn't really care much for earthly goods. Whilst he wouldn't be prepared to willingly give everything up and live in utter poverty—he loved his easy life, after all, like any man would—he cared more for the emotional riches of man: love, affection, warmth, devotion—the list could continue onwards. He was a loving person; there was no other way to explain it. With Vieri, he was constantly the initiator of any physical contact, whether it was an innocent hug, or the seductive shift of fingers beneath clothing, and some days Federico felt frustrated by it all. He needed Vieri to pull down those remaining barriers and show his feelings, show his affections; he knew for definite that they were there.

He had tried to explain such a thing to Vieri, that it was better to live soulfully rich than physically, but Federico had already changed Vieri enough; to say that the elder male was not appreciating such lectures on how to live his life would be an understatement. Yet, strangely to Vieri, Federico did not push the subject further like other people in his life would have. The Assassin merely flashed a smile, nodded his head and promptly pissed Vieri off by swooping in for a kiss.

Federico really didn't mind how greedy Vieri was. It had taken time for Vieri to let down his barriers, and it would take even more time for Vieri to take that leap, that risk to show the affection his family had stunted. Vieri needed to push away that spiky shell he had covered himself with—all those thistles, vines and weeds—and Federico would help him, when it was time.

Because Federico would wait for Vieri.

* * *

AWAKE MY SOUL

"_How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes  
I struggle to find any truth in your lies  
And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know  
This weakness I feel I must finally show_

_In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die  
Where you invest your love, you invest your life."_

When Federico first entered his life, Vieri didn't know how to react. Well, he did. A firm punch to the nose was how he reacted, truth be told. He felt he was doing the world good by attempting to smack some common sense into the philosophy-sprouting buffoon. He thought he was in his own nightmare, trapped with this supposedly suave, son of a bitch.

Everything Federico did was about life, and enjoying it, to spend time loving others and oneself. Vieri would, every time, rebuke him, telling him that they were born and then they died—there was not much point to it. If there was a God, he made people and then took them away at any point in time. And then, as always, Federico would _ponder_ such a notion, before promptly deciding that he or Vieri could die at any moment and that they should be _together_ in their possible last moments. Cue the Assassin being punched, once again, and the Templar stomping away.

But then, one day, it changed. Federico, instead of leaning closer and lowering his voice to a belly-clenching, husky whisper, instead told him that, if Vieri's belief was true—that they were all merely destined to return to their maker with nothing left of their past life—then they should live life each day as it comes, to its fullest potential. We may all return to _our maker_ in the end, and we may not have anything physical to show for it, but we have memories of triumphs and failures, of love and loss.

To which, Federico added, "So how about we love now? It'll be another loss to add to your list, otherwise."

He got more than a right hook for that.

* * *

AFTER THE STORM

"_Night has always pushed up day  
You must know life to see decay  
But I won't rot, I won't rot  
Not this mind and not this heart,  
I won't rot."_

With every visit, every Codex Page given, Leonardo could see Ezio dying.

Not physically, not always. Sometimes, he would enter his workshop with another injury. When he started doing so, as the war became fiercer than Giovanni Auditore could have imagined, Ezio waved the artist off; they were merely scratches, they were nothing. But soon, with time, with age, Ezio began to grow weary. He would wordlessly allow Leonardo to tend to his injuries, explaining in a cold, clinical voice how he obtained the wound in question.

For a while, the visits stopped. Then, Ezio arrived unexpectedly with his uncle and Niccolo with that golden sphere, asking if he could decipher it. His curiosity was instantly spiked, but what propelled him, ultimately, to study the object was the spark in Ezio's eyes; it had been a long time since he had seen such a flicker. The events that followed led him to Monteriggioni, where he spent his days with Maria and Claudia, hearing nothing of Ezio or his health.

But soon, Ezio returned with his uncle, the Apple and victory in his grasp. To everyone else, Ezio looked fine, he looked truly alive and happy. Leonardo saw different. The storm had indeed passed, but now it was time to deal with the damage it had left.

He wouldn't let Ezio fade. He knew that, with this triumph and supposed end to their troubles, Ezio would slowly die away, shrink away, a shadow of his former self. Leonardo had always promised the Assassin that the days of their darkness would end and they would walk into the sunlight, safe, together. And so, that night, as the town celebrated with wine, dance and music, Leonardo held an exhausted man in his arms, tenderly kissing his brow and whispering further promises. They were home, they were safe. They had weathered the storm.

But what he didn't know was that Ezio had refused to die, refused to let go of Leonardo, refused to break those promises.

"_And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair."_

* * *

I recently got forced- I mean, was... co-erced into getting that thing known as Tumblr (I feel like such an old cat lady), and I've set up a blog that I'll start to fill with writings; they'll be long or short, a flash of an idea or a full blown summary - whatever I can write. I will start posting stuff up there soon, but I thought i'd give a heads up, as I'll probably post the last half of this story on Tumblr, rather than here, as well as a lot of future work, cause all these OC stories are actually starting to get on my tits. And not in the pleasant way. I would start to post on Y-gal, on the account i lurk with, but now that the site might be going down, there's not much point. So, yeah, enough of the ramble.

Tumblr: demi-goddess(dot)tumblr(dot)com

Not requesting followers - merely a heads up that stuff will be on there :)

-Demi


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